


A Lovely Trick

by eiluned



Category: Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Mission Fic, Pre-Avengers Movie, Undercover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:34:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eiluned/pseuds/eiluned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes you have to resort to untested techniques in order to maintain your cover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Lovely Trick

It's Venice and it's lovely, but they're on a mission. No time for sightseeing; they have a mark to tail.

They're on the Ponte di Rialto, pretending to be tourists, and if they weren't on a mission, Natasha thinks she might actually be having a lot of fun. S.H.I.E.L.D. footed the bill for their Wealthy Young American Couple on Their Honeymoon wardrobe, so she's in a breezy sundress and a white hat with a floppy brim, and Clint's looking vaguely uncomfortable in a polo shirt and a pair of chinos. He's not a polo shirt kind of guy, but the shirt's a nice shade of blue, and Natasha thinks it complements his eyes.

She's not entirely sure why she's thinking things like that, but it probably helps her cover, so she just rolls with it.

The mark is touristing in Venice, too, or at least that's her cover story. S.H.I.E.L.D. suspects she's the actual leader of a terrorist organization that's been trying to buy bioweaponry, so it's their job to trail her movements, see if she does anything suspicious, like meet with shady-looking guys and leave the meeting with a shady-looking briefcase.

It's the kind of job Natasha would usually do on her own, but Clint wanted to do more undercover work--broaden his horizons, beef up his spy cred, as he put it--and so they're here, hands laced together as they stroll through the crowd of tourists, keeping an eye on the mark.

"I think she's just here on vacation," Clint murmurs, leaning close so it looks like he's kissing her cheek. 

The feel of his warm breath against her skin sent an unexpected shiver through her, and she bumped his shoulder with hers to mask her reaction. "Wait..." she whispers back, a flash of movement catching her eye. "She just met someone. Oh, I know that guy. He's a small-time arms dealer from Tbilisi."

Clint casually turns to look, and then puts his arm around her waist and pulls her to the bridge's rail, leaning her back against it and trapping her between his arms. "I recognize him," he says, the cheery smile on his face completely at odds with the tone of his voice. "You were snooping around in his warehouse, but I had him in my scope the whole time."

Lifting herself up on her toes, Natasha looks at the mark again over his shoulder, unfortunately right as the arms dealer happens to look at her.

Without really thinking it through, Natasha swiftly turns her face to Clint's and plants a kiss on his lips, catching the brim of her hat to hold it against a nonexistent breeze as extra shielding.

A split second later, she freezes, realizing that Clint has done the same. He's completely still, and his eyes have gone wide, his lips firm against hers.

And another split second later, he's wrapping his arms around her waist, hauling her close and kissing the breath out of her.

Natasha moans before she can stop herself, and the hand that's not holding her hat snakes around his shoulder and up into soft hair on the back of his head, and she can't quite believe it but they are really, _really_ kissing. Not just undercover, going-through-the-motions kissing, but _kissing_ in a press of bodies and tangling tongues and soft sounds of pleasure.

She doesn't know if being undercover as newlyweds has affected her or if it's just her and Clint and all the tension that's been simmering under the surface for the last three years. All she knows is that his lips are against hers, and she's never felt anything better in her life.

After a long, long moment, she finally convinces herself to break the kiss, pulling back to look at him but making no move to disengage from his embrace. He's staring down at her, as breathless and glassy-eyed as she feels, and just having him look at her like that, like he's hungry for more, makes heat surge low in her body.

Reality suddenly reasserts itself, and she lets go of her hat brim in time to see their mark and the arms dealer boarding a water taxi. "Shit!" she whispers, grabbing him by the arm, and they take off in pursuit.

*****

It's hours later now, and they managed to catch the arms dealer and their mark right in the middle of an exchange. Honestly, the mission couldn't have gone better, Natasha thinks as they pack up and erase their presence for their hotel suite. Both bad guys are on their way to the Helicarrier, which is parked somewhere in the Adriatic, and she has the pleased feeling of a mission well accomplished.

Well, everything's not exactly right in their world, but neither she nor Clint have mentioned that kiss on the Ponte di Rialto. They're not the kind to sit around and talk about their feelings, but what they're not talking about now feels like an elephant sitting on her chest.

Clint keeps looking at her surreptitiously as he packs away clothes he'll never wear again, and the tension's so thick that she can barely breathe.

His phone breaks the tension briefly by beeping insistently. "Car's going to be out front in 15 minutes," he tells her, tucking it into his pocket.

And then they're looking at each other, really looking for the first time since that kiss, exchanging a look that has nothing to do with coordinating actions or communicating silently or any of their other usual meaningful looks. It's painfully awkward, and he reaches up to rub the back of his neck as she fiddles with her earring for lack of anything better to do with her hand.

"Tasha--" he begins, but she realizes that she doesn't want to explain this away. She doesn't want to hear whatever excuse he can think of for why he grabbed her and kissed her like he'd been dreaming about it for ages, and she can't even think of an excuse for why kissing him was the best idea she could come up with to maintain their cover.

The only excuse is that she just really wanted to kiss him.

So she silences him with another kiss, sliding her arms around his shoulders and slanting her mouth across his.

There's no hesitation this time; he wraps himself around her, sinking a hand into her hair and splaying the other across the small of her back, kissing her with enough passion to make her knees feel a little weak.

They jump apart when his phone buzzes insistently between them, and he cracks first, chuckling as he digs his phone out of his pocket, and she gives him a little grin, feeling her cheeks flush with heat.

"Yes sir? ...yes, sir, we'll be right down," he says, ending the call. "Coulson's downstairs in the car. Apparently he wants a debrief right now."

"Oh boy, that'll be fun," she quips, willing the blush in her face to disappear as she shouldered her bag.

He catches up with her at the door, taking hold of her wrist and pulling her around to face him again. "Can we pick this up again later?" he says, giving her a crooked grin that made her heart thump enthusiastically against her ribs.

"Later," she agrees with a sphinx smile that made him flush a little, and she tugs him out the door.


End file.
